


Avery Woods and the Sea of Green - A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

by The_Weird_One



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson Fluff, F/M, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace Fluff, Original Character(s), Post-The Hidden Oracle, Post-Trials of Apollo, during the trials of apollo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Weird_One/pseuds/The_Weird_One
Summary: Avery has never had a good life. Constantly moving foster homes, dreaming of parents who died before she could even meet them. Or so she thought...Little did she know that her mother wasn't dead at all, that she, in fact was a goddess. That her life was about to turn upside down forever. And it all starts when she meets Percy Jackson.Future violence, profanity, & sexual content.





	1. Why Do I Have To Deal With Monsters Before Breakfast?

Percy

I will admit, I groaned a little when the screams pierced through the air like daggers.

It was a reasonably warm morning, the last of the snow had just melted away a few weeks ago, leaving the streets open to cars and pedestrians alike, with the occasional flock of pigeons dotting the sidewalks and alleys as they pecked at trash in search of food.

My head whipped around in the direction of the screaming before my brain could even identify the terrified sounds.

The street was almost pretty full, people walking around, enjoying the nice weather and a few going on their morning jogs - it was a great Saturday, after all.

My eyes zeroed in on the screamer, a girl sprinting down the street, her young, child-like, face flushes, her dark brown ponytail whipping after her. And boy was she fast. Like, track and field champion, fast. The way she nimbly dodged pedestrians and leaped over trash cans and fire hydrants took still. She could have only been about twelve or thirteen. But more important was the thing that was chasing her.

The monster must have been thirty feet tall, the only thing it wore was a stained loin cloth wrapped around his waist that looked dangerously close to falling off. His chest, legs, and arms were pudgy and hair, like a naked mole rat. His mouth hung open obtusely and the single eye in the center of his forehead stared intently at our favorite little Track Star - who was still running like her life depended on it, which it did. Cyclopes.

Now, normally I don't have anything against cyclopes, I even have a half-brother named Tyson who's a cyclopes. But this cyclopes was, as Tyson would put it, "a big meany." So he gotta go.

Instantly I dropped my shopping bags on the floor, I'd been walking back from the corner store by our apartment with eggs and milk for my mom to make pancakes for breakfast when I'd run into these two. (Being interrupted by a pesky cyclopes before I could even eat breakfast, rude, right?) My hands flew to my pocket, fingers closing around my pen, A.K.A. my sword named Riptide.

Track Star is still running - no, flying is more like it - in my direction. But the cyclopes is rapidly gaining, using his enormous size to his advantage. Every ten steps she took was equivalent to one step of his. Pulling out my pen, I uncap Riptide. Before I know it, a long, double-edged sword has extended out in the space my ballpoint pen had taken up just moments before. The blade glowed dimly with celestial bronze.

Track Star's eyes catch on the sword, she zeroes in on my face and a wave of surprise, confusion, and recognition washes over her. Her eyes widen a little bit and her mouth gapes just a little, like she's met me before and she wasn't expecting to see me here. Then her eyes narrow and her jaw sets in determination. She starts to run even faster, right towards me, instead of my general direction like before.

Track Star halts, standing at my left and turning to face down the cyclopes head on like me. She's out of breath and weaponless, but she looked determined to fight.

"Distract him," I ordered, "Try to get him to turn around so I can stab him from behind. And don't get caught."

Track Star nods, looking calculatively at the cyclopes. The cyclopes is barreling towards us in the middle of the street, but the mortals don't even seem to see him. They can't hear the roaring and growling thanks to the mist. Miraculously, there aren't any cars driving through at the moment, leaving the space clear for our showdown.

"Hey, Dumpster Breath!" Track Star calls tauntingly, waving her arms and jogging towards the monster. They meet in the middle. "I'm over here! Come get me!"

She's right in front of the cyclopes now. It growls and bends over, throwing a large hand at her.

Track Star nimbly jumps out of the way just in time. She laughs tauntingly and blows a raspberry. The cyclopes roars, throwing another hand at her. This time she dives out of the way, sliding in between his legs.

At first, the cyclopes looks down at his empty hands and the space around them with confused a eye. It's obvious he's not a very smart cyclopes. Ten Track Star blew another raspberry. The cyclopes turned, a slow, unsteady movement.

I took my chance while he was unbalanced, running at his ankles and slicing them. Golden dust trickled down his leg instead of blood, a common thing for Greek monsters. There was another roar, it sounded like someone was revving a motorcycle engine. And then I felt myself go weightless.

That damn cyclopes had grabbed me by the T-shirt, pinching the fabric between his thumb and his fore-finger and holding me several feet off the ground so that I was level with his mouth. Rows of twisted feet were all I could see. Track Star hadn't been wrong for calling him Dumpster Breath, the guy had raging halitosis. I wave my sword at his arm, trying to get him to drop me, but it's no use, my sword swings around helplessly. I closed my eyes and held my breath as he lifted my closer and closer to his mouth. His tongue wiggled around greedily, eager for it's next meal. I, Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon, Slayer of Kronos the Titan King and Gaea the Earth Mother, the demigod who had walked through Tartarus and lived to tell the tale, was about to be eaten by a cyclopes. My mom would be devastated. Annabeth would grieve, then she'd sneak into the Underworld to hunt down my soul. 'Cause that's what girlfriends are for. :)

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three gun shots fill the air. I cringe at the sound, but to my astonishment, I haven't been eaten yet so that's a plus. One by one I open my eyes, first the right, then the left. I'm still level with the cyclopes' mouth, but he's motionless now. His eye is glazed over with pain, there's a three bullet holes coming through his stomach, I can see right through his thick torso.

The monster staggers, he's so consumed in his pain that his grip on my shirt loosens. I throw my sword at the cyclopes' body, dragging it down as I fall to the ground, an explosion of gold following my blade until the entire monster exploded. I land lightly on my feet, gold flakes of monster floating slowly to the ground around me.

Track Star is standing about ten feet away, also in the middle of the street, feet apart, arms extended in front of her, a gun in both hands aimed roughly where the cyclopes had been standing just a few seconds ago. Gods know where she got it.

We just stare at eachother for a moment that seems to stretch on forever. Her eyes are wide and terrified, an expression that I've seen time and time again, and expression that I've worn before. I can almost see the wheels of her brain turning, replaying the cyclopes encounter, trying to believe that it was a trick, or that she'd somehow imagined it all. And then realizing that it had been real and wondering how this was possible. You're mind goes into overload, you realize just how close you came to dying, how unaware of the real world you are. The world where gods and monsters are real.

The gun slips out of her hands, her arms fall to her side, and then her knees buckle and she collapses.

A/N: Okay so this is my first Percy Jackson fanfic, I hope you guys liked it! Just to clarify, when Percy says Track Star, he's referring to the girl who was being chased by that cyclopes in the first place. It's kind of become his nickname for her.


	2. A Stranger Steals A Gun

Percy

I sigh, capping Riptide and shoving the enchanted sword in the back pocket of my jeans. Track Star's fainted; her crumpled form is lying in the middle of the street. 

I stride over, warily picking up her gun. I'm just now noticing the police officer passed out behind someone's car. His badge is glitters in the morning sun and his deep blue uniform is heavily wrinkled. From the look of it, ol' Track Star managed to knock out this poor, unsuspecting cop and steal his gun so she could shoot at a cyclopes. Adrenaline can make demigods do reckless - and impressive - things. 

I set the gun down gently beside the officer, not wanting to be caught with it whenever he woke up. (I've been a fugitive once before, when I was twelve. I don't really want to do that again.) Honestly, I was glad to be rid of the gun. Even though I carry a pen/sword in my pocket everywhere I go, the weapon felt foreign and especially dangerous in my hands. 

Track Star groans and I'm reminded yet again of her presence. The exclamation sounds pained and I wonder, warily if she hit her head when she passed out. 

I jog over to her, scooping her up and hastily shuffling over to where I'd left my shopping bags. She's shockingly light, so I sit down on the edge of the curb with Track Star in my lap, her head resting on the crook of my neck, Unconscious, Track Star seems so frail and delicate, so... Breakable. I can't help but feel sympathy for her. When she wakes up, I'm going to have to explain everything to her, everything about gods and monsters and the whole ugly truth of the world that she's been so oblivious to for all her life. And the unfair thing is Track Star doesn't get a choice, no demigod ever does. We get dragged into this world because of our godly parent, and then we just have to live with it for the rest of our lives. (Or at least until we meet and especially hungry monster on a particularly unlucky day.)

But having Track Star here in my arms, remembering how she saved my life just a few minutes ago, it makes me feel an almost over-whelming brotherly instinct. It makes me wish I could somehow shield this little kid that I just met from the horrific reality. The reality where Greek gods are real, and so his every single part of their ugly pasts. 

I hold Track Star like this for a little while longer before she floods back into consciousness. Her eyes flutter open and she sits up so fast she slams into my jaw hard enough to make me gasp. I accidentally bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood. My eyes water. But unlike me, she doesn't seem to feel any pain. The poor kid is too worked up and distracted to really notice. 

"Where am I? Where's the monster? There was a monster! You have to believe me! It was real! We have to run, it's not safe!" She was gasping in between the frantic shouts. Pedestrians walking by looked at her funny and began walking a little faster. 

Crazed with fright, she shoved my arms off her and tried to crawl away. 

"Hey! Wait!" I call, standing up and scooping her up. She screams once, but doesn't struggle. I set her down gently in an alley with her back against the wall of one of the bordering buildings. The cop was waking up and I was trying very hard not to draw attention to the both of us. He stood up quickly, looking around in confusion then realizing how embarrassing and unprofessional it was to be knocked out on the job. He picked up his gun and walked away, his face red like a tomato. I sigh a little, not realizing I had been holding my breath until now. Then, I turn my attention back to Track Star. Her hands were shaking so hard she couldn't bend her fingers. Track Star's eyes were swimming in tears that pooled and overflowed onto her fair cheeks. 

"The monster," She rambled on, "It's real, I s-swear. You h-have to believe m-me." Her lower lip trembled, impairing her speech. 

"Listen," I say, trying to keep my voice as comforting as possible, even though her frantic mood is starting to rub off on me. "The monster? He can't hurt you anymore. I killed him. He's gone." 

"But he almost killed you!" She wailed, more tears pouring down her face. 

"It's okay! I'm fine, see? I'm okay, you're okay, it's all going to be okay. You're safe now." I say, gesturing toward my torso and showing how intact it was. I'd manage to get out of that battle without shedding any blood or even tearing my clothes. 

But I don't think Track Star could even hear me at that point. She'd curled herself up into a little ball, her head resting on her knees as she whispered, "How is this possible? How is it real? How could this happen? Is this a dream? It has to be a dream, it has to be a dream." She kept rambling on and on, hyperventilating and rocking herself back and forth like she'd gone into full on crazy mode. 

"It's okay," I repeated again and again, but she didn't seem to be listening. I had no idea how to comfort her. Her anxiety was quickly getting to me. Panic creeped in, making it hard to breathe; hard to think. If Annabeth were here, she'd know exactly what to do, but sadly she wasn't. 

I was trying to remember how what Annabeth had once told me about how to help someone who's gone into shock, wishing that I'd paid closer attention - or any attention at all. (If you're reading this, Annabeth, I just want to remind you how much I love you.) 

Caught in the moment and desperate for her attention, I put my hands on either side of Track Star's face, pulling her head up and holding it there so that she couldn't look away. The first thing that I register are her eyes, dark brown, so dark they almost look black. They're wide and terrified, but the more we stare at each other, the more she seems to calm down. So I just hold her there until she's completely calm. Eventually, she stops crying. She stops hyperventilating and frantically rambling, too. Her breathing slows and becomes more even. Her eyes become blank and glassy, focusing and unfocusing on my face. 

My voice is soft, I'm trying very hard to keep Track Star calm. "Look, you've gone into shock. I know it's a lot to take in, but I'd feel a lot better if you drank something and maybe got some food in your system. Let me take you back to my apartment, my mom can make us pancakes, that sounds good, right?" I try for a smile.

Track Star nods slowly and I exhale in relief. Now we're getting somewhere. 

I didn't how any water so I passed her the jug of milk. Track Star chugged a good half of the milk before stopping. Droplets of milk slid down her cheeks as she greedily drank down as much milk as she could. It was like she hadn't drank anything in years. It seemed wrong for her to drink it so fast, like maybe this wasn't the best thing for someone's health when they had just gone through a very traumatizing experience, but I was too relieved to see some life breathed into her to really give it too much thought. She stops chugging, setting the jug aside and wiping her milk mustache as well as the dribbles of mil that had slid down her face. 

I smile widely, "Great! Now, do you think you can walk? It's just a few blocks to my place."

Track Star opens her mouth to answer, her eyes widen and she begins to vomit all over herself. 

My face falls. I help her roll over so that she can vomit on hands and knees. I hold her hair back and wrinkle my nose at the smell. As it turns out, all she'd really had in her stomach was that milk, so when she was finished puking that up, all she could do was heave dryly, which couldn't have felt good. 

Sometime during the heaving, Track Star starts crying again, but I can't really blame her. Her vomiting sounded pretty painful.

"There, there," I say soothingly, rubbing her back in small circles and feeling pretty powerful against the forces that were making poor, little Track Star cry. 

When Track Star finished, she rolled over, laying on the floor in exhaustion. I sit on the floor beside her, not really sure what else to do. She reeks of vomit, the whole alley does, but I don't dare ask her if we can move. She's tired, and that's insensitive. Track Star is breathing hard again, a fact that slightly bothers me after all the hassle it took me to get her to calm down before. 

We sit in silence for a while, long after Track Star's breathing has become even again. In truth, I wasn't really sure what to say. 

"So..." I pause, trying to decide what to say. "What's your name?" I'd been calling her Track Star in my head for so long, it almost felt like it was her real name. 

There's a prolonged moment of silence and I start to wonder if she's sunken back into shock and can't hear me anymore. I glance beside me to see Track Star. She's staring at the bright blue sky, showing no sign that she'd heard me or processed my words.

I'm about to repeat my question when she speaks, "Avery, Avery Woods." Avery sits up and for a while we just stare at each other.

I realise we've been staring at each other for longer than normal, "Oh, uh, my name is-"

"Percy," Avery blurts out, before I can.

 

A/N: Ohhhhh I wonder how Avery knows his name is Percy! Guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out ;)


	3. I Meet The Man Of My Dreams

Avery 

For a moment, I thought I'd screwed everything up. This weird, but comfortable peace with this stranger. Except he wasn't a stranger... 

 

He was Percy Jackson. He was literally the man of my dreams. Not that I was desperately in love with him or anything - he was at least six years older than me and kind of reminded me of what an older brother would act like. I mean I had literally dreamed about Percy. 

 

For the longest time, I hadn't been able to recall the faces in the dreams after I awoke. All I'd been able to remember was being in pitch black, the darkness being nearly suffocating. Sounds of screaming blared in my head. I'd try to run towards the screaming, to try and help them in any way I can, but my feet are glued in place, and the screams feel like they're coming from every direction. All I can do is watch as people walk in and out of the darkness. There's a chorus of screaming for help, their voices tortured. The people would come in and out of my line of sight, arms outstretched for my help but then some force knocks them down, dragging them back to the dark abyss. The people kicked and screamed and tried to claw their way back to me, but they'd get dragged into the darkness by an invisible force nonetheless. There were about seven people, switching off. Most of their faces were fuzzy by the time I awoke, but seeing Percy here now, I knew that he was one of them.

 

It was the same nightmare every time. Every morning I woke up, unable to say their names, unable to recall their faces.

 

But when I saw Percy, I just knew. Suddenly his face was clear in my brain, not just the determined, battle-ready one in front of me, but also the terrified, pain-stricken one that plagued me by night. Somehow, I knew his name. No one had ever told me, but suddenly it was just there, on the tip of my tongue, waiting to be called upon.

 

When I'd said his name, Percy's eyes had widened. I was waiting for his face to fill with suspicion, for him to shout random accusations as to how I knew his name. Maybe Percy'd think I was a spy or a stalker or something, anything else that made more sense than "I know your name from my dreams."

 

To my surprise, Percy didn't even hesitate before nodding. "Yep, that's right." Then he smiled like this was all very normal.

 

That's the thing that mystified me about Percy. He'd nearly been eaten by a giant, ugly, one-eyed monster today, but I acted like this was just another day, like fighting monsters with a shiny, bronze sword was all in a day's work.

 

"I don't suppose you want to know what that err... Monster was?" Percy looks uncomfortable, not at all traumatized like me. 

 

I shake my head hard enough to make my pony-tail slide off. Dark ringlets of hair fall onto my face. 

 

"No, whatever that was, I want to know as little about it as possible. It doesn't matter how curious I am," I say. To be honest, I've been trying to shy away from it in my head as well. If I don't, well it's easy for my brain into overload. That pink, hairy, scaly skin. Those rows of crooked, yellow teeth. And worst of all, that single, blood-shot eye. I shudder.

 

My response seems to sadden Percy, like whether I like it or not, He's going to have to tell me at some point. 

 

He nods sadly and we sit for a while in silence. I go back to staring blankly at the big blue sky.

 

My stomach growls loudly and I look at sheepishly.

 

He laughs like there isn't a single problem with the world. "So I guess it's time for those pancakes."

 

I just smile timidly and nod.

 

Percy has to help me get to my feet. I lean against the brick wall. My head is spinning and I can see star, but I try to power through it. 

 

Probably noticing my unsteadiness, Percy wrapped his arm around my waist. Flashing him a grateful glance, I leaned into his side for further support. He was holding more of my weight than I was.

 

The walk to Percy's house was only two blocks long, but it felt like we'd been walking for miles. My knees buckled three times, but Percy caught me before I could fall every time. Four flights of stairs were particularly difficult, but I managed somehow.

 

Finally, we stopped in front of one of the many green doors. Percy brought out a dull silver key from his pocket, it was the only key hanging from an I heart NY key chain. The key slid into the lock in one smooth movement. There's the click as the deadbolt opens, and then Percy lets the door fall open. 

 

The apartment wasn't anything special. It wasn't very big, but it was definitely larger than some of the homes I'd lived in while floating around in the foster system. (Sorry, I forgot to mention, my dad died in a car crash when I was three months old, his name was Ben Wood, he was a farmer. According to my social security file, there isn't a single record of who my mom was. I have no memories of either of them.)

 

Upon entering the apartment, you're in the living room. The tiny kitchen connects to the living room, and there's a hall leading to what I can only assume are the bedrooms. 

 

A woman in about her mid-forties peers her head through the kitchen. She's got gravy-streaked brown hair and warm blue eyes and well, she's quite obviously pregnant. She stares at me curiously, but when her gaze falls on Percy, her eyes crinkle and she smiles in a way that makes the whole room suddenly feel warm.

 

"Percy," She says excitedly, and she comes out from behind the kitchen to hug him. From the way she embraces her son, you'd think they hadn't seen him in years. I wonder if this is how mom's treat their children. No one's ever treated me like that, I note bitterly. 

 

Then she turns to address me, and I feel myself stand up a little straighter. "Percy, who's your friend?"

 

"Oh, this is Avery," Percy tells her. "Avery, this is my mom."

 

I stick out my hand for her to shake, "Nice to meet you Mrs. Jackson."

 

Instead of shaking my hand, she reached spread her arm out for a hug, "Please, call me Sally."

 

"Uh... I'm kind of covered in vomit so... Sorry," I step away a little too quickly for it to be causal. Maybe it was a rude thing turn down the hug, but my excuse was a valid one and, frankly, hugging someone seemed so alien to me, I didn't really want to partake in it. The prospect of hugging scared me more then it should have. 

 

Sally frowns at my clothes, seeming to notice the vomit stains for the first time. "I have some old clothes that might fit you..." She takes me by the hand, pregnant-lady-waddling to her bedroom. There's a king sized bed in the middle of the room and all the furniture seem to gravitate around that. There's baby toys and clothes littering the room, but Sally doesn't pay attention to any of that. She heads straight for her closet, digging through it a little bit before she produces a cardboard box. 

 

I help her drag the box in the middle of the room and together, Sally and I go through its contents. Eventually, I find a plain white T-shirt and some faded blue jeans that look like they might fit if I roll up the pant-leg just a little bit.

 

Sally leaves the room while I change. I hold my breath, sighing loudly when the door shuts. 

 

This whole morning has left me exhausted. I feel like I could curl up into a little ball and sleep for a week. I've calmed down a lot more than when I was with Percy in that alley, but I'm still feeling flighty. Every noise makes me jump. My hands tremble as I pull my shirt over my head and I bite back I sob. 

 

The shirt ended up fitting just fine, the jeans had to be rolled up and the pnat-leg, but that was okay. Most of the clothes in my own closet don't fit me either, a result of never having much money and having to shop at Goodwill.

 

I do a quick once over in the mirror, smoothing out all the wrinkles in my shirt and taking a deep breath before walking out. 

 

Percy was in the living room, watching T.V., Sally was in the kitchen, humming to herself and flipping pancakes. When he saw me, Percy grinned and horse whistled.I giggled and curtsied in response. When she saw me, Sally gasped, smiling and making her way over to me to embrace me in a hug. I hugged her in return, patting her back stiffly and wishing it would be over sooner.

 

Then I skipped over to where Percy was, plopping myself on the sofa to watch T.V. beside him. Sally went back to cooking breakfast. 

 

A/N: Sorry for not posting yesterday!!!! I was out and about with my family all day and didn't have any time to get on a computer. Sadly, I'm probably not going to post very much throughout the week either because school is ewww :l


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